


The Long Road Home

by SnorkleShit



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Attempted Super Soldiers Gone Wrong, Brainwashing, Chuckington, Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Family, Happy Ending, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions Of Mental Control, Mentions Of Past Drugging, Mentions Of Past Suicide (Of A Minor OC Character), Misunderstandings, Molestation, Multi, On the Run, Paintball, Polyamory, Prison, Romance, Violence, everyone is human, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnorkleShit/pseuds/SnorkleShit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Freelancer program was meant to install cybernetic enhancements into the nervous system of soldiers to increase their abilities. But the corruption and obsession of The Director lead to illegal experimentation on civilians and soldiers both, going farther into their brain functions and shutting down certain aspects till they were driven by one core fragment of their being. Such as logic, greed, jealousy, trust, and anger. </p><p>The program implodes in on itself, naturally. After being violently violated by the person he trusted most, Agent Washington steals as much money as he can and attempts to run away. He's tracked down and imprisoned, but he manages to hide the money first. Years later, he escapes, retrieves his money, and goes on the run. He ends up in the small town of Valhalla, in Blood Gulch County, Nevada. There he moves into an apartment complex full of more than strange characters, and a puma that everyone calls a dog.</p><p>Washington just wanted to lay low, and recover from the pain of his past. He didn't expect to find a family, he didn't expect to fall in love. And he certainly didn't expect the past to return, having waited for him the whole time. Even on the longest road, you can't outrun the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lost and found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarcastissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastissa/gifts).



> SOUNDTRACK:  
> http://8tracks.com/snorkletuckington/the-person-you-d-take-a-bullet-for-is-behind-the-trigger
> 
> This is a gift for Melissa, my muse.

It was the coldest night of the year, and he was in the middle of nowhere. A tiny town in a canyon with only one road, and the apparent population of zero. His stolen old pick up was officially dead, abandoned five miles down the road.

_How ironic,_ He thought to himself as he walk. _I'm running from ghosts, and the only refuge I can find is a ghost town._  
Washington pulled his jacket around himself, the leather doing surprisingly little to shield him from the biting wind as he made his way down the highway, sights set on the town on the horizon. 

__It got colder and colder as the night wore on. He had no way of knowing what time it was, now that the sun was down, since he had no phone or watch. The area around the road he was walking down wasn’t flat, it was ridges and hills and thickets of desert foliage. In the day time it had been the epitome of unassuming and bland. But now, as a surprisingly dense curtain of stars descended upon the bowl of the sky, it was eerie. Like shadows had drawn themselves into the place between the horizon and the sky, obscuring the reality of where this world ended and the next one began. The town he was heading for barely had any lights, but it had some. Glowing faintly into the darkness, blurring the edges of the buildings that had previously been so defined even from far away._ _

__Lots of poets said that night was a time of illusion, right? When he was young, that had felt like indisputable knowledge. But now, after everything he had seen and been through, he found himself wondering. All the things you thought you knew during the day eventually failed you, life had proven to him. Things that had seemed so set in stone, back in what had seemed like the noon of his life, they had been nothing. Things he had known for sure on the road behind him where the lies, and the obscurity of the world he was walking towards was the only chance at truth he had left. Perhaps light was more prone to blinding you than darkness._ _

__Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of aching feet, he reached the edge of the town. It wasn't horribly small, but it wasn't big. And there wasn't a person in sight. The fluorescent and neon signs of the gas stations and few commercial buildings cast long lines of shadow across Main Street. It looked like they’re where people in the gas stations, but he figured he’d walk around and good idea of his terrain first. He could look for a place to stay, and if he didn’t find one himself, he’d go back and ask. Maybe it really was a ghost town. He walked through what appeared to be the Main Street until he reached a tall, strange building with a sign that read _Blood Gulch Apartments- Vacancy!_ The neon lights of the sign flickered, but the where on. Which meant someone must be home. _ _

__Wash stared up at the building. It was strange because the paint job was split down the middle, one side painted blue and the other painted red. Certain windowsills had different colored trim, ranging from bright yellow, to cyan, to purple. At least, from what he could see in front. A high fence followed the building to the left, and a parking lot to the left. Some other window sills where blank, as if waiting for a color. While he could identify the colors, they looked a bit off, since the only way to see them was via the colored light of the neon sign itself._ _

__Wash pressed his hand against the wad of money in his back pocket. He'd taken as much as he could carry, that fateful day that seemed like a lifetime ago. He certainly had enough to rent an apartment in this dead ass town. At least, for a little while. Some peaceful place in the middle of nowhere, what better place to hide?_ _

__But then again, did he want to move to a small town where people surely knew everyone and always asked questions?_ _

__Despite this counterargument, Wash felt himself walking through the door. The entryway was a large lounge, with stairs on either side of a giant fireplace, which was...full of marbles, for some reason. To the left of the door was the reception area, where a man with a military haircut and broad shoulders was reading a Seventeen Magazine that had Taylor Swift on the cover. Wash approached the counter._ _

__"Hello?" Wash tried. The man didn't look up from his magazine._ _

__"Red or Blue." He demanded to know._ _

__Wash frowned in confusion, glancing around. One of the staircases was marked **BLUES** and the other was marked **REDS.**_ _

__"Uh...Blue?" He said. He'd always liked blue. The thought reminded him of Carolina and Nevada, but he pushed those thoughts away. He couldn’t be associated people from his past with colors his whole life._ _

__"Drat, you had such potential....grab one of the keys from the blue bowl. If you don't like the apartment, grab another one or deal with it like a man. The rent is a hundred and fifty dollars a month. We have a guard cat, so no funny business. If you want an official tour, ask one of the two Blues up there. Except Caboose. Never ask Caboose for anything. Which leaves you with Tucker. He's in room 101A." The man told him all this without looking up from his page on _"Summer Tips For Your Top !"_ As if this wasn’t bizarre enough, it was currently September. _ _

__Wash blinked, not sure if he was supposed to respond. He pulled out two hundreds, and set them on the counter. That caused the man to look up, and he smiled widely._ _

__"Cold hard cash, upfront? Well how-dee-do, I like you! Sure you don't want to be on Red Team?" The man asked, slapping the counter and grabbing the money._ _

__There where _teams?_ Wash shook his head. According to this guy, they're where only two other tenants on the Blue side. Less neighbors, less questions. _ _

__"I'll stick with Blues." Wash said, and reached for the bowl marked blue, grabbing a key at random._ _

___101B_ _ _

__"You're funeral. What's your color?" The guy asked._ _

__Wash blinked. "My color?"_ _

__"It's our thing here. For your windows, and other things. It should be some sort of blue, since you're a Blue. Or any cold color. The blue spectrum isn't broad, those posers." The guy muttered, casting a glance around as if he expected someone to attack him._ _

__Wash thought about that for a moment. "Uh, teal?"_ _

__"Taken."_ _

__"Cobalt?"_ _

__"Taken."_ _

__"Indigo?"_ _

__"That doesn't even sound like a real color."_ _

__Wash huffed in annoyance, this was fucking stupid. They may have had colored designations in Freelancer but it wasn't restricted to spectrums. He supposed he should stick with what he'd had then._ _

__"Gray?"_ _

__The man stroked his chin. "What _kind_ of gray?" _ _

__Wash balled his hands into fists. "The normal kind? Like, charcoal? That's a cold color, come on."_ _

__The guy clapped his hands together. "Charcoal gray it is. I'll have Donut get right on your windows, once you've settled on in."_ _

__Wash turned and headed towards the staircase, but ended up turning back when the man spoke again. He was leaned back in his chair now, and was looking Wash up and down his appraising, distant eyes. As if he was suddenly the wisest person on the earth, come to bestow the secret of his existence upon him. His gaze was so transfixing, Wash was frozen to the spot._ _

__“For future reference, there’s a lost and found box in the common room. In case you ever find anything worth losing.” He announced, then turned away and picked his magazine back up._ _

__Wash stood rooted to the floor for a moment, somehow shaken by that experience. He shook his head and turned back away. He booked it up the Blue staircase as fast as he could, and hoped his new neighbors were at least slightly less...odd._ _

__

__The door on the first floor marked _101A_ was decorated in stickers, and had a sign that said "The Kool Krew." In macaroni art. Either this Tucker guy was even weirder than the guy downstairs or he had a kid. Wash turned away and headed to his door, a little down the hall. He considered going downstairs and getting another key to where he was a few apartments away from anyone else, but that would mean talking to the Swiftie guy._ _

__He put the key in the lock of his door and turned it, stepping inside. He found himself rooted to the spot in surprise. The apartment was actually really nice. The kind people would pay a fortune for in New York City, but bigger._ _

__The living room was broad and full of starlight from the large windows on the opposite wall. There weren't any visible holes in the walls. The kitchen was big and well equipped, and it was open, facing the living room, divided only by a half wall counter curling around the perimeter, with a gap for walking._ _

__Wash turned to the right, towards a short hallway. Three doors- two large bedrooms and a bathroom in between._ _

__How the fuck was this only one fifty a month? In the middle of nowhere?_ _

__Wash decided he'd sleep in the bedroom farthest from the door. It then occurred to him he didn't have a bed._ _

__He didn't have anything. Which had it’s benefits and drawbacks. Maybe there was a furniture store in this town? He didn't want to wander around anymore without knowing where he was going, though. He was tired and starving. Maybe he could go buy some junk food from the convenience store and ask them? No, he was too tired, his senses wouldn’t be at their best for walking in the dark. He should wait to leave the building till morning. Should he ask someone in the building so he knew what to do right when he woke up? He didn't want to go ask the reception desk guy…. Maybe his new neighbor? This Tucker character?_ _

__It seemed to be his only option. He headed back into the hall and walked to the sticker covered door, biting the inside of his cheek as he knocked. After a moment, it opened. A small dark skinned boy, around ten years old, with bright eyes stared up at him, dressed in little boxers and a Spiderman shirt._ _

__"Who are you?" The kid demanded. Before Wash could reply, a man with long, thin, well kept dreads appeared behind him._ _

__"Junior, what have I told you about answering the door?" The man demanded. The guy was Wash's age, mid twenties. Maybe even younger. Far too young to have a ten year old kid._ _

__"He's new!" Junior exclaimed, pointing at Wash. The guy smiled up at him awkwardly, and ushered the kid away._ _

__"Go dish up, and wash your hands first!"_ _

__"Yes, mom!" The kid said sarcastically, but skipped off in the direction of the kitchen anyways. The guy turned back towards him, leaning against the wall. He had dark, smooth skin, but bright blue eyes. Almost turquoise. He'd never seen anything like it._ _

__"So, are you my new neighbor? I heard the door open." The guy asked._ _

__"Uh, yeah. My name's Washington. Are you Tucker?" He asked, trying to smile._ _

__"Yeah, why, Uncle Sam? Does someone need my expertise on being a badass?" Tucker asked, winking._ _

__"Uh, the guy at the desk said if I needed anything I should ask you, and he specified that I _shouldn't_ ask someone named Caboose." Wash explained._ _

__Tucker nodded. "Wise advice. He's a good kid, but he has brain damage. Off in his own world. What do you need?"_ _

__Wash blinked at the casual manner of that statement. "Uh, I was just wondering if there's any form of a furniture store in this town? I kinda just got here and I don't really have anything with me. I didn't want to ask the guy downstairs because..."_ _

__"That's Sarge, for you. And no, there isn't anything like that here, but there is in Chorus, a few miles south. Can't miss it." Tucker replied. Wash smiled and nodded as nicely as he could._ _

__"Thanks. That helps a lot." He said. Tucker eyed him up and down, and raised an eyebrow._ _

__"You don't have a car, do you? Or anything else, apparently. Running from something?" He asked frankly._ _

__Wash smile fell, and his hackles rose. But before he could respond, Tucker laughed._ _

__"I knew it. That's alright, man, everyone here is running from something. Or towards something else, if you're the romantic type. I've got a truck, how about I drive you to Chorus in the morning?" He offered._ _

__Wash stared at him, taken aback. "You don't have to do that. I could take the bus."_ _

__"We don't have a bus around here. It's just being neighborly, dude. We have a lot of that around here. Speaking of neighborly, mind doing me a favor?" Tucker asked. Wash rocked back on his heels, apprehensive. But he really did need furniture._ _

__"Uh, sure?"_ _

__Tucker snapped his fingers. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He said, and then disappeared into the kitchen. A few moments he came back with spaghetti in a Tupperware dish, with a fork on top. He shoved it into Wash's surprised hands with a smile._ _

__"My live in boyfriend is on a business trip, but I still made enough for three out of instinct. I don't have a lot of room in my fridge, so could you eat it so it won't go to waste?" Tucker asked. Wash frowned, knowing exactly what this was._ _

__"Uh, okay. Thank you. It...looks really good." He managed to get out. Tucker smiled._ _

__"Thanks. See you in the morning." Tucker bade him goodbye. Wash returned the formality, and turned away as the door closed. The dish was rather large, and his stomach growled. He'd gotten some fast food a few times on his drive before. But he hadn't had anything that smelled so good in three years. Prison food was honestly the worst. The spaghetti container was warm in his hands. He’d put some of it in the fridge for the morning._ _

__He returned to his apartment and locked the door behind him. It was warm inside. Not overly so, but enough to where he didn't mind not having any bed or bedding. After he finished half the spaghetti, he stripped his jacket and clothes off till he was just in his boxers, and hung them over the closet bar so they wouldn't get wrinkled. They were all he had, after all. He set his shoes by his bedroom door, and then curled up in the middle of the floor, where the carpet was softest. He fell into sleep's embrace hesitantly, but he fell nonetheless._ _


	2. the first step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family reunites, in the darkness before the dawn.

That night, another man did not sleep so easily. Miles and miles away from the secluded valley of Valhalla, a city built on a foundation of blood and corruption stained the skyline, blotting out the moon. He had come so far, left so much behind in order to get here. Because he had to find what he had lost. 

The city of Price, Florida was a tourist hot spot, not to mention a center of crime. Leonard Epsilon Church II had finally remembered discussions under the cover of night, where no one could hear, back at the Mother of Invention. Discussions of Murphy’s Law, of worst case scenarios. He had not taken part in these conversations, he had overheard them. He had always overheard everything. He remembered that now, and he was glad. He had already searched some of the other places he could remember their voices mentioning, this was his next option. If they were not here, they were in Hawaii. He didn’t know how he would get there, but he would. He hadn’t exactly prepared for this trip, but he was still an agent, and he had made due. 

Luckily, his time in Valhalla hadn’t made him soft. He had still exercised, even if he couldn't remember exactly why it had been important. He thanked god for that as he reached his destination- the roof of an abandoned warehouse by the port. He crouched on the edge, scanning the entry points of the warehouse next to this one. That building was his true target, and he prayed it was not empty. Running off the hope it wasn’t empty also meant he was hoping it was full, which meant he couldn’t exactly walk in through the front door. They were bound to have traps, precautions, silent systems of alert to entry from any of the obvious or not so obvious entry points. Squinting, he finally decided he would enter through the roof. Not the stairwell door on the roof he could clearly see, no. That was far too obvious. Through the boarded up hole in the far east corner. 

He stood, heading swiftly to the right of himself, where there was a long metal pipe. The purpose of the pipe he didn’t know, but he knew it was sturdy. He used this to climb halfway down, and then cursed as he jumped the catch the remains of a fire access stairwell. His shoulder wrenched a bit, but he hoisted himself up on the platform with a huff nonetheless. The metal creaked loudly and he winced. If there was anyone inside, they could have heard that. Oh well. Too late to turn back now. He did his best to climb the rest of the stairs quietly. This proved particularly difficult when the rusty stairs where as riddled with gaps as the cheesecloth his grandmother used to wrap her leftovers in. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, he reached the top platform of the stairs, and used the firmest part of the railing and attachment to the building to maneuver himself over the border of the roof, rolling onto the concrete surface. He lay there for a moment, straining with his ears to detect anything. He stood and headed over the the hole in the concrete, and crouched to investigate.

It was laid over with tarp and wide boards, but the boards were held down by bricks, not nails or any of the like. He lifted the bricks one by one, and then the boards, before finally pulling the tarp away. He peered down below. It seemed there was a catwalk of some sort underneath the hole directly, about a six foot drop. It would be loud, but he couldn’t see anyone or any traps. Well, you only lived once. Although, as Church had learned, you could die a lot. Taking a deep breath and cursing to himself, Church jumped down onto the catwalk. A loud ringing echoed out.

“Fucking hell.” He sighed, going to turn around to see which direction was closest to the exit. However, when he turned around, there was a knife to his neck and a body behind him. he froze, balling his hands into fists and resisting the urge to get out of the hold. 

“You have ten seconds before I slit your throat.” A familiar, hissing voice told him. 

“Really, Connie? Ten? I would have you on your ass by five. You’re getting soft.” Church scoffed, despite the rapid pace of his heartbeat. Connie inhaled sharply.

“Nevada? Wha- but Tex said you lost your memory! She hid you some place across the country!” Connie exclaimed, still not taking the knife from his neck. Church sighed.

“Yeah, well, I got it back. Came looking for you assholes. You’re welcome.” Church replied, getting a little impatient with the knife to his neck. But he remembered what he had become, he knew why she may be wary, so he didn’t make a move to disarm her. Despite the fact he very well could have. 

“Are you all there? Or are you different like the others?” Connie demanded. Church frowned, raking his fragmented and reconstructed memory. 

“Others? What others?” He demanded. Her grip on his arm tightened and the knife nicked his skin painfully. He knew it wasn’t an accident, it was a warning. The only person better with knives than Connie had been David. The thought sent a familiar jolt of emotion through him, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Now wasn’t the time.

“Answer the question! You’re lucky I was the one on patrol, South would have just shot you, but they'll be here soon, you know they heard you’re not too subtle entrance.” Connie snapped. Church sighed, rolling his eyes.

“North and Carolina are already here, watching. North is behind you, and Carolina is somewhere behind the metal wall in front of us. They want to hear my answer too. Well, for your information, I am all me. 100 % Kosher Church Beef. Tex saved me before it could effect me permanently. The only thing is I was more prone to _irritation_ , and let me tell you, the knife to my neck is really starting to tick me off. It’s _me_ , guys, please.” The last word was less harsh, and more desperate. Connie was silent for a moment, and Church knew she was waiting.

“Stand down, CT. It’s him.” Carolina’s voice said, trying to sound professional, but full of emotion. Church’s heart twisted. God, it had been so long since he’d heard his sister’s voice. Connie stepped away, letting him go and pulling the knife away with her. Church relaxed a little bit, reaching to wipe the bead of blood from his stubble covered throat. He stared into the shadow in front of him desperately, waiting. 

Carolina stepped into the light that was being cast down from the newly exposed hole in the ceiling, and his heart skipped a beat. She looked older, but not by much. It had only been a few years, after all. Two, three. It was hard to tell. Her hair was in desperate need of a dye job, faded and almost all the way blonde again. Her vivid green eyes raked over him, examining every inch hungrily. As if in disbelief it could really be him. Church couldn’t really blame her. He resisted the urge to rush to hug her, unsure how she felt towards him, after what he had done. They may need time to-

In the blink of an eye, Carolina’s arms were squeezing him, and he got a faceful of her hair. He wheezed in surprise for a moment, before returning the huge just as fiercely. His gut twisted in a litany of emotions he decided not to focus on. 

“I missed you so much. We thought we lost you.” She said, voice tight.

“LIke you could ever get rid of me.” Church quipped, voice equally tense. Carolina pulled away.

“How did you find us? Did Tex tell you where we would be?” North asked, coming to stand next to them with his rifle over his shoulder. 

“No. I always listened to your conversations when I was bored. You should have come up with better codenames.” Church responded dryly. Connie’s face turned red, but North just shook his head and Carolina huffed. 

“C’mon, let’s get down to the others, they’re still hiding with the Civ’s in the lock room.” Carolina said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

Church frowned. “The Civ’s? Who are they?” He asked.

“You’ll see. We’ll all explain everything soon enough.” Carolina said, turning around. Church whipped a hand out to grab her arm, and she turned back.

“Carolina, is- is David down there?” Church asked, voice cracking. Tension immediately filled the air, and he sensed Connie and North turn away and start heading for the other stairs. Carolina gave Church a pained look.

“No, Church. He’s not with us.” She told him. Church’s heart stopped in his chest. His grip tightened on her arm involuntarily.

“What? Where is he? Is he dead?” Church demanded.   
“No, he’s not dead. He’s in prison.” Carolina replied bluntly. Church stared at her.

“ _What?_ How-” He began to demanded, but she yanked her arm out of his grip.

“Leo, I know this is hard for you. But I promise it will all be explained downstairs, and then we can figure out what to do. I promise, we’ll get him back.” She told him. Church snapped his jaw shut and straightened, forcing himself to nod. SHe turned, and he followed her into the shadow with a heavy, dread filled heart. 

\------------

A tapping noise drew him back towards the surface of wakefulness. He blinked open his eyes and sat up as he groaned. After a moment of consciousness, the source of the noise caused him to freeze.

"Heeeeeeyyy, Neighbor! How are you this peaches and cream morning?" The boy outside his window proclaimed, leaning over the ladder with a paintbrush covered in grey paint in his hand. The sound was muffled through the glass. The boy had a bro tank on, scars on the side of his head, with bright blue eyes and pink hair. 

Wash stood jerkily, staring at the boy, trying to understand the situation.

The stupid windowsills. _Of course_ , he realized, with an annoyed burst of pain in his temple. This must be the ‘Donut’ guy that was supposed to paint his windowsills.

The boy was smiling at him, almost too friendly. Donut opened his mouth to say something else, but then the boy’s blue eyes drifted to rest on his lower abdomen, and widened in horror. 

Wash realized with a sudden horror that he was, in fact, only in boxers. Which meant that this boy was staring at the word _"WHORE"_ carved in vivid scar letters across his lower stomach, above the hip bones. They were raised and glaring white. Not hard to miss.

Wash swallowed his shame and strode forward stiffly, and yanked the cord next to the windows before dropping it. The blinds shuttered in front of Donut's few, completing and cutting off his sight into the room. Then, Wash signed, and turned to put his clothes on.

He ate the rest of the spaghetti Tucker gave him as breakfast, and then headed into the hall with some of his money in his pocket, and the few other possessions he had, which included a twisted piece of aluminum with a paper wrapped handle, a pair of dog tags and a flash drive. All he had in the world, in his two pockets. 

\-------------

Tucker nodded as he scooped some cereal into his mouth. 

"Thanks so much, Doc, I know this was sudden." He said into the phone at his ear.

"It's okay, I love hanging out with Junior! Have fun on your date, I'll be right over to watch him!" Doc exclaimed happily, then hung up before Tucker could protest the word _date_.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Tucker stood and crossed the living room to open it.

"Donut? Aren't you supposed to be doing something for Sarge, I heard him yelling for you." Tucker frowned at the younger boy in front of him. Donut looked around nervously, and leaned in closer.

"I was painting the new guy's windowsills! Gray, what a boring color....but anyways, you'll never believe what I just saw!" Donut exclaimed in a whisper-yell. Tucker sighed, knowing that Donut was a hopeless gossip. But then again, it would be nice to know as much about this guy as possible.

"What did you see?"

Donut fluttered his hands like a white suburban mom at a bake sale. "Well, for one thing, the new guy doesn't have anything! Literally! He doesn't even have extra clothes- he was sleeping in just his underwear on the floor so they wouldn't get wrinkled. But the thing is- he's all covered in scars-"

"A lot of people have scars, Donut." Tucker said with a frown.

"Yeah, but do a lot of people have the word 'WHORE' literally carved into their skin! Really big and deep, too.....but the angle it's at, it looks like someone else did it to him. " Donut mused.

Tucker blinked in shock. That sounded....like a huge can of worms. "Donut, I really don't think you should around telling everyone that, okay?" He said firmly.

Before Donut could reply, a voice from the left startled them both.

"I second that motion." Wash almost snarled, rigidly glaring at Donut. Donut's eyes widened.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I mean I meant to tell him, but I didn't mean to see it! And only because we really don't know anything about you and it's such a small town and you could be like a serial killer-" Donut rambled, hands tripping over themselves. Wash took a step forward, still glaring at Donut.

"So you decided to go about running your mouth about things you shouldn't, and piss off said possible serial killer?" Wash demanded. Tucker slide in between the two of them.

"Alrighty there, boys. Reel it in back for a minute. Donut, don't go gossiping about this, do you hear me? Just go about your business, buddy." Tucker said with a smile, clapping Donut on the shoulder. Donut nodded and ran off down the hallway.

"Sorry about that. Gossiping is kinda second nature for him. But he means well." Tucker shrugged, then opened the door to his apartment and grabbed his keys off the coat hanger.

"Junior, I'm going out with Wash to Chorus, Doc is gonna be here any minute! Be good!" Tucker called.

"Have fun on your date, Dad!" A voice called back. Tucker rolled his eyes and shut the door. 

"Don't you have a live in boyfriend?" Wash frowned.

"Yeah, he just likes to be a little shit. Why, are you interested in an illicit affair?" Tucker joked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Wash's glare didn't let up. "Just because it's carved into my skin doesn't mean it's true. I have no interest in you." Wash had a feeling that he was lying on both accounts, but that wasn't the point. 

Tucker realized his mistake, and shrugged. "Sorry dude, that's not what I meant. I just make jokes a lot, it's my thing. Just like it's Donut’s thing to gossip, and it's your thing to take everything too seriously." Tucker said primly, then turned and started towards the stairs.

"Let's hit up Furniture Outlet, man!" 

Wash frowned thoughtfully after the other man. Was everyone in this town like this?


	3. Neighborly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker and Wash go shopping, and run some errands in the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOUNDTRACK:
> 
> http://8tracks.com/snorkletuckington/the-person-you-d-take-a-bullet-for-is-behind-the-trigger

Tucker’s truck was bright cyan, and covered in dust, dents, and what appeared to be...paintball stains. As Tucker unlocked it and held the door open for Wash, he grinned. 

“We have property in the South Ravine that we built a paintball battlefield out of, and a racetrack. It’s just for us, but a lot of people drag race across the desert back east of here. Mostly the County Sherrif’s boys, actually. They get pretty bored.” Tucker explained. Wash blinked at him, not getting in the car yet.

“What do you mean by we? How much money do you people have?” He asked in confusion.

“The gang, duh. Mostly Sarge and Lopez. Sarge is loaded, and so is Donut. Donut's family practically pays us to keep him out of the eyes of the press. They’re some big high up conservative figureheads in the big city, and they’re raging gay estranged son is apparently not good for PR. He doesn't’ really care, we’re a better family anyways. A big gay family. Are you getting in the car or are we gonna stand here all day?” Tucker asked after he was done with his explanation, raising an eyebrow. Wash climbed into the car. Tucker walked around and got into the driver’s seat, putting his seatbelt on. Wash did the same, looking around the car. It was actually fairly clean, with a couple empty pop bottles on the floor and a kid’s toy stuffed in the pocket in the door. A pair of cheesy dice hung from the mirror.

Tucker pulled out of the parking lot, onto the main street. Wash looked out the window, eager to inspect the town in the light of day. Well spaced buildings, nothing to hide.So strange compared tot he gothic, otherwordly appear he had traveled through the night before. Stores, a movie theater, a bank and the postal office. At the end of the road was the two opposing gas station looking centers he had passed on his walk into town. They pulled into a brightly colored place called _Republic Convenience_. 

“We’re just stopping for some food and drinks, i’ve got more than enough gas. This is the place to be, here or the place across the street, Federal Fastlane. They’ve got better pizza over there, but better breakfast stuff here.” Tucker explained as they walked in the door. 

A dark skinned woman with brown hair and blue highlights was standing behind the main counter. A restaurant like atmosphere headed off to the left, and the right lead into more of an actual convenience store.

“Hey, Tucker! Good morning. Who’s this?” The woman asked. Wash offered a tight smile.

“Hey, Kimball. This is my new neighbor, Washington.” Tucker introduced. Kimball nodded, but another guy with orange hair walked up and raised his eyebrows. 

“Washington? What kind of name is that?” The guy asked. 

“Shut the fuck up, _Bitters_ Like you have room to talk.” Tucker replied.

“Whatever, _Lavernius._ So, Washington, you have another name or is it just the one?” The guy asked apathetically. Everyone turned to look at him, obviously interested. Even Tucker. Wash resisted the urge to stiffen. He couldn’t tell him his real name, it was too dangerous.

“Lance. Lance Washington. But I really prefer Wash or Washington.” Wash said, the new fake name rolling easily off his tongue. 

Tucker nodded, then turned back to the others. “Two breakfast burritos and two black coffees, please.”

Wash’s mouth practically salivated at the thought of coffee. He hadn’t had coffee in what felt like forever. The people put together a bag with their burritos wrapped in foil and two foam cups of coffee, with a little smiling cactus on each. Bitters handed him the cup and he couldn’t help but give a genuine smile. The warmth radiated from the cup to his hand, and he pulled it up to smell it with a content sigh. Tucker grinned at him as they exited the store.

“I’ve found the way to your heart at last.” He proclaimed as he got back in the truck. Wash cast him a mock scowl.

“Don’t think so fast. Coffee is great, but if got a lot more layers.” He replied as they pulled onto the winding desert road again. Tucker began to laugh, for longer than Wash’s commented even remotely warranted. He pulled their burritos out, casting Tucker confused looks as he opened his.

“What’s so funny?” He demanded as Tucker kept grinning.

“I’m pretty sure you’re some hardened fugitive that could kill me and no one would know.” Tucker announced, and then his face split into an even wider shit-eating grin.

“And you just quoted Shrek.” 

Wash harrumphed. “Did not.”

“Oh, so you’ve seen Shrek? Wow, i’m amazed. Then you have to know that you did quote it, but you just don’t want to admit it.” Tucker said primly, reaching to take sip of coffee as he kept looking ahead on the road

“Of course i’ve seen Shrek. I haven’t been living under a rock. Besides, that came out years ago, before-” He started to reply, but then he stopped. He scowled for real this time and returned his attention to his burrito. There was a few moments of silence as he bit into it angrily.

“Wanna listen to music, Onion Man?” Tucker asked, trying to keep as straight a face as possible.

“Anything other than your voice, or I may just kill you.” Wash replied dryly. Tucker just huffed another easy laugh and reached to flick the radio on. Johnny Cash’s rumbling voice filled the truck and sent a wave of relaxation down Wash’s spine. He loved music, of all kinds. He used to play a few instruments. Maybe he should take that back up.

The rest of the ride was quieter as they listened to the radio, Wash leaning against the window and sipping his coffee once he had finished his burrito. The buffs, hills and cliffs meandered by in the distance, while the red and green landscape next to the world swirled past at faster speeds. That, along with the music, was almost hypnotic. 

_Don't know that I will but until I can find me_  
_A girl who'll stay and won't play games behind me_  
_I'll be what I am_  
_A solitary man_

_A solitary man._

\---------

Chorus was a much more modern, active city, nestled behind a desert mountain pass that Wash had avoided on his drive here. He wondered now whether that had been a mistake or not. 

The shopping excursion was fun, as if it was breaking the ice. Tucker made a myriad of inappropriate jokes the entire time he was picking out a bed, and somehow managed to transfer the theme of the jokes in some way into every other furniture piece he picked out, and they had taken outside and fitted in the bed of the trunk somehow. He ended up buying a small twin sized bed, plain bedding for the said bed, and a few stools for the bar counter of his kitchen. 

Tucker tried hard _not_ to stare at him as he pulled out hundred dollar bill after hundred dollar bill at the register. While he knew it would be another red flag to Tucker, he had split his money up so that all the serial numbers weren’t in numerical order. The lady just smiled emptily at him, hollow eyes too preoccupied with glancing at the clock to even notice otherwise. He was content to leave with just that, not wanting to take the whole day, but tucker dragged him across the parking lot of the shopping center into stores that weren’t furniture related at all.

“Donut told me you don’t have any clothes, dude. You gotta at least pick out a few things. And a laptop, and a phone. You’ll need those. It’s the 21st century, after all.” Tucker insisted. Wash frowned.

“But doesn’t getting a phone include signing up with a program?” He asked as they walked between women's jeans and children’s shirts. 

“Yeah, so? You have enough money, and you can always get a job.” Tucker replied. Wash gritted his teeth.

“Money isn’t the problem. Signing up with my information is.” He ground out slowly, glancing around to make sure no one had heard him. 

Tucker’s eyes widened. “Ah, that’s a good point... “He nodded, reaching to tighten the tie holding his dreads up in a bun. 

“Well, you just give me some money, and i’ll go buy ‘myself’ another phone and attach it to my plan and you can just pay me back for it.” He decided, smiling at Wash.

“What? No.” He didn’t want to be anymore indebted to this guy than he already was. 

“Dude, I don’t mean pay me over time. My payment plan is only like, ten dollars per phone. Just give me a few of those dank Benjamins you’ve got right now and you’ll be good for like, three and half years. You need a phone, in this place. Trust me. It’s the neighborly thing to do- both for me to get you the phone, and for you to have one. So I can pester you to come let me borrow a cup of sugar without having to walk all the way there. And so I can send you memes.” Tucker added as he stopped to look at some scarves. Wash looked at him, debating his options.

“Walk all the way- it’s literally two feet between our doors. You’ll just pressure me into letting you buy something else, won’t you?” He deduced.

“Damn straight. C’mon, it’s the neighborly thing to do!” Tucker said cheerfully, as if that was a wax seal on the deal. Wash just gave him a blank, slightly exasperated look before turning towards the men’s section.

“Fine, i’ll do it. If you stop saying that stupid fucking phrase.”  
\-----------------

After Tucker made him try on every possible outfit and outfit combination, he had an entire new warddrobe, a Macbook, and an IPhone. He frowned down at the shiny encasement.

“Don’t even start with that look, Onion Sucker. Androids are bullshit and everyone know it.” Tucker said as they headed out of the store with a full cart. 

“Whatever. Are we done now? It’s past dinner time, we wouldn’t want your friends to call the cops on me.” Wash asked, tucking the phone in his pocket.

“The police on your case would be bad, even these lazy county police.” Tucker conceded, beginning to load the laptop bag and the paper bags full of clothes into the back. Wash grabbed their empty coffee cups and the foil from their burritos and walked to the black trashcan by the cart drop off to throw them away. 

He climbed back in the car, and they were off again. The sun was slowly rolling down the bowl of the azure sky, gravitating towards the horizon that was painted in hues of fire and purple. Tucker switched from radio station to radio station, muttering about how nothing good was ever one past noon. Then he pulled his own green IPhone out of his pocket and handed it over to Wash.

“There’s an FM transmitter in the glove compartment, plug one end into the phone and the other into the cigarette lighter and press 104.6 on the middle part. My code is 4200, pick whatever song you want.” Tucker instructed him as he pulled onto the main road again, the plateau opening up like a blooming flower as they turned around the edge of the jagged foothill. Wash glanced at him in surprise as he plugged the device in.

“Are you sure?” He asked, fingers hesitating above the numbers on the lock screen. The picture behind them was Junior in a shark hat, covered in icing and giggling.

“What, it’s not like I have any horrifying secrets in a folder on my home screen. Just click music and pick a song, you’re the one in this new friendship who’s the mystery, not me.” Tucker pointed out. Wash didn’t reply, eyes flicking down to the phone as he tapped out the code. Tucker’s home screen was, unsurprisingly, just another picture of Junior. This one was Junior in a purple dress, and iron man gauntlets, by the side of a smiling hawaiian woman with an undercut, yellow hair and piercings. 

“Is this Junior’s mother?” He found himself asking, glancing up at the man driving. An emotion Wash couldn’t quite catch flitted over Tucker’s features momentarily.

“Nah, that’s Sister. Kaikaina, Grif sister, and my best friend. She’s like Junior’s cool aunt, she loves the kid. You’ll meet everyone tomorrow, I imagine. It’s Game Day. Granted, every other day is Game Day. It’s kinda what we do around here.” Tucker explained.  
Wash pressed the music icon on the phone and scrolled down through Tucker’s music.

“What kind of game? Paintball?” He asked.

“Nah, we schedule those just a few times throughout the month, because it costs money to get ammo. We have a rec room, we’ve got like every gaming console ever, a lot of video games. And we’ve got pool, foosball, darts, knife throwing, beer pong. Stuff like that.” Tucker explained.

“Every college frat boy’s dream room, then.” Wash summarized, still scrolling through Tucker’s music. He recognized some, but mostly he had no clue. It occurred to him that he had missed two or so years of music. He’d have to catch up.

“Dude, just pick one at random at this point.” Tucker said after another moment. Wash obliged, and clicked the son that was currently at the top of the list. 

_I'm giving you a nightcall_   
_To tell you how I feel_   
_I'm gonna drive you through the night_   
_Down the hills_   
_I'm gonna tell you something_   
_You don't want to hear_   
_I'm gonna show you where it's dumped_   
_But have no fear_

Wash set the phone down between them and turned towards the window again, watching as the sky turned darker and a richer reddish purple as the sun melted into the dark ridges of the horizon. The song was good, haunting and soothing. Soon, the tiny glowing silhouette of Valhalla could be made out far down the road, if Wash squinted. Probably just another half an hour of driving. it had seemed like hours and hours, when he had walked.

_There's something inside you_   
_It's hard to explain_   
_There's something inside you boy_   
_But you're still the same._

 

Wash was lulled into a sense of drifting relaxation as he watching the darkening land roll by and listen to song after song pass, so it took him a moment to register when something had changed. He stiffened as Tucker pull off the road and into the desert, pressing slightly harder on the gas as they drove into the blurring landscape, instead of towards the town. Wash whipped to stare at Tucker, and Tucker just kept looking ahead with a knowing smile. Like he knew something Wash didn’t. 

Wash’s mind reeled momentarily, confused. Then, a familiar hardness snapped to brace against his bones. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the twisted metal makeshift knife he’d kept from his time in prison. He undid his seatbelt with his other hand as he did so, and practically flew across the cab of the truck until the edge of the blade was against Tucker’s throat. Tucker jerked and cried out in shock, then stiffened and his eyes went wide. The truck swerved a little, but Tucker quickly managed to steady it out. Despite the tightly wound man holding a shiv to his neck.

“Dude, calm the fuck down!” Tucker exclaimed.

“ _Calm down_? What the fuck are you trying to pull, where are we going?” Wash hissed. Tucker swallowed thickly, snapping his jaw closed.

“I’m trying to _help_ you, you fucking lunatic. You’re not as smart at hiding things as you think, and i’m trying to help you. It won’t take long.” Tucker said cooley, voice suddenly calm and holding an air of authority that Wash had never heard possess it before. 

Wash bared his teeth, practically snarling, and pressed the knife closer. “Pull over and tell me what the fuck you are planning before I gut you like a fish.” 

Tucker gulped again, but kept staring ahead. It was so dark, he reached over and flicked on his lights, casting rays ahead into the terrain. 

“No, you won’t. I’m not going to pull over, we don’t have time. And i’m pretty sure you won't kill me. Both because a respected and well known member of this community going missing after going on a trip with the new mystery hottie is the biggest red flag on the planet, and because you like me, and I’m putting my money on the fact that you aren’t a bad person. So, how about you do the neighborly thing, and sit the fuck down.” Tucker announced, raising an eyebrow and casting his eyes to meet Wash’s.

Wash felt uncertainty and apprehension fill him, and he tasted metal in his mouth. He didn’t move for a full moment, before he slowly pulled back and sat back down. Tension remained in his frame, and he kept the blade tight in his fist. He glared at Tucker as they drove, glancing at their surroundings and then immediately back at Tucker to make sure he wasn’t pulling anything. It pissed him off that Tucker was right.

Washington had killed people before. He’d killed people he’d been ordered to kill in the Program, back when he had thought they were the good guys. And then he had slaughtered god knows how many guards and prisoners in his escape, many with the very blade in his hand. He’d killed all of them. But they...had been people who hurt him. He felt bad for the killing, but he’d still done it. His heart pounded the entire silent drive into nowhere. The only way he would be able to kill someone like Tucker was if he had to. He didn’t know what was happening, he didn’t know what Tucker meant by helping him. So he just had to trust that he was. Yeah, right. Trust? It wasn’t even in his dictionary, anymore.

Confliction and fear ruled his mind as the truck slowly came to a stop right in front of a large bluff, red stone piercing up into the darkness higher than anything else for miles. They had driven around to the far side, the side away from the road. Wash’s nervous heart stammered to a halt, because he recognized the large outcropping of rock. No, it couldn’t be. There was no way that Tucker knew.

Tucker hopped out of the car, pulling a flashlight from under the seat as he did. Wash got out as well, shiv still clutched and poised to strike. Tucker flicked the flashlight on, and pointed it ahead of them.

In front of them, tucked in between two pillars, was the truck Wash had stolen and abandoned here. He’d beaten the license plates with a rock until they were unreadable, and burned all the paperwork of the previous owner before he’d left it. But there was no doubt that his fingerprints were all over it, that a stolen vehicle notice may have been placed on the make and model. If the police where to find this, it would lead them directly to him. He had driven it into the desert on it’s last leg of gas, and practically pushed it behind the rock, because it was the best hiding spot he could find. And somehow, Tucker had driven straight to it. 

“So, you do recognize it. Thought so.” Tucker said smugly. Wash whipped to look at him, and began to stalk towards him, holding up the sharpened metal instrument. Tucker didn’t make a move to back away, and his face actually shifted to...pity.

“How do you know about this?” He demanded, his voice tight.

“Well, I was raised by an old retired detective for half my life, you know. The thought process kinda rubbed off on me. Here you are, a guy with no belongings and enough money to rent an apartment in the middle of nowhere. And you were obviously running from something. You didn’t have a vehicle, and you looked more than a little worn out, but not worn out enough to have walked the distance between here and _any_ of the nearby cities. So, you must have gotten at least halfway here somehow. I figured you’d either been dropped off, or you had driven here and the vehicle ran out or broke down. But then, you would have called someone, or told someone that your car was that way and asked for help to go get it. As opposed to getting a ride. So, I figured, if it was stolen, you likely tried to hide it. And if you tried to hide it between here and the mountains, on either side, you would have hid it in a few places that stuck out the most to hide something in or behind. So, after I got Junior to go to sleep, I chugged a monster and drove out to all the spots I could think of last night. This was the last spot I checked, because it is without a doubt the _worst_ place you could have hid this.” Tucker explained, gesturing to the truck. Wash stood frozen in his tracks, knife still raised, absolutely dumfounded. He took a full moment to wrap his head around what the other man had just told him. The shiv slowly lowered to his side as he did.

“What the fuck?” He managed to get out, voice slightly strangled.

“I’m smart, but don’t tell anyone. Besides, I needed some nighttime air. So, this is yours, and it is stolen, right?” He asked.

Wash stared at him, then looked at the truck, then back at him. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you to keep this a secret. Because, I don’t want to, but I will. They can’t find me. I won’t go back, and if you tell anyone-” He began to threaten, even though his voice was cracking. He gritted his teeth against the emotions threatening to overtake him. Tucker’s face softened, and he held up his hands.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. I told you, i’m trying to help you. This is the worst place you could have hid it, because this is Pinwheel Bluff. You know the county police, the ones I told you drift around in the desert? Well, they use this as the focal point of their shit. They could have come out here tomorrow morning for some fun and found this. I’m here to tell you that you can trust me, and to help you get rid of this in a far better way.”

Wash looked at him apprehensively, then glanced towards the truck. He felt raw, exposed, shocked. 

“I forgot how to trust people.” He admitted in a slightly bitter tone. “Everyone i’ve ever trusted…” He sighed, letting his words die in the night air. 

“Well, there’s always room to learn again.” Tucker shrugged. Wash looked back over at him.

“You might be more of a mystery than I thought.” He admitted, looking Tucker up and down. 

“Well, I told you when we met that everyone here is running. Personally, I think everyone deserves a clean slate. Now, if my boyfriend were here, he would know how to make this shit vanish into thin air, probably. But I think I know the next best thing. We’ll fill it with gas from my gas can in the truck, i’ll drive it while you follow me in my truck. Just a mile north, there’s a small crevice that can’t be accessed from lower down and can’t be accessed from the north side, and is surrounded by jagged rocks, so nobody really goes there. I’m thinking we drop some rocks on the gas, and send it up over the rocks and over the edge. We’re so far out, nobody should hear the explosion. I highly doubt anyone would find it, and if they did, the shit would be too wrecked to identify easily. At least, that’s my idea. Got a better one?” Tucker added, after he was done. Wash stared at him. He had explained it all not like he was suggested in aiding a criminal and practically auto arson, but like he was reciting a recipe for pumpkin fucking pie.

“Who the fuck are you people?” He said. Tucker winked at him, and turned towards his truck.

“Your new friends, if you play your cards right. Now c’mon, we don’t wanna get back horribly late. We’ve gotta at least build your bed before we go to sleep.”

 

Wash stared after him, wondering what kind of world he’d unwittingly stepped into. Then he just shook his head, and hoped that the darkness would aid in supposedly wiping his slate clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two songs used in this chapter:
> 
> Solitary Man - The Johnny Cash Version  
> Nightcall - London Grammar

**Author's Note:**

> SOUNDTRACK:  
> http://8tracks.com/snorkletuckington/the-person-you-d-take-a-bullet-for-is-behind-the-trigger


End file.
